Temptation and Desire
by Eviler Twin
Summary: The team takes a case involving the murders of young gay men in Florida , which leads Spencer to an interesting and possibly dangerous friendship
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - This started as a discussion with a friend about the episode "52 Pickup" and how we both felt about it . It was originally supposed to be set in that season - before the Events of Hotch and Foyet occured - but it's been through about 20 versions since then , all unwritten - so I'm going to try to make it a little more recent and somewhat different from the original thoughts . We'll see if it works . **

**Please Read and Review - and let me know if I'm on the right track **

**Dedicated to my Mindtwin **

Temptation and Desire

Chapter One

_" Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation ? I tell you there are terrible temptations which it requires strength , strength and courage to yield to " Oscar Wilde _

Earlier ...

Billy lay silently on the floor of his dark prison . He might have been afraid , were it not for being very dead . A crack of light began to illuminate his body , and a door slowly opened above him . Into that light , a hand slowly descended and began to stroke his cold face . Slowly . Lovingly .

3 AM

Spencer woke with a start , sitting up in his bed , and reflexively pushing his hair off his face. He groped for his glasses on the nightstand . The alarm clock read 3:00 AM . He sighed .

The nightmares about the dead children had stopped , finally , only to be replaced weeks later by a different kind of dream . One that , as far as he could recall , he had never had before , although he knew it was within the parameters of normalcy for most young men . Even if some of the images he remembered when he woke up in the morning were a little surprising , and forced him to deal with physical evidence that he was much less inhibited in his sleep

He got up off the bed and started stripping the sheets . He was wide awake now , and thought he might as well spend the time making notes in some case files , or catching up on his reading . Anything to distract himself .

He threw the sheets into the hamper in the closet , on top of the others. Second time this week . That was annoying . He pursed his lips and frowned , a tight knot of wrinkles forming between his eyes . Then he quickly stripped off his pyjamas and threw them on top of the sheets , almost angrily .

_I'll get to the laundry in another day or so , _he told himself , as if his uncharacteristic messiness required him to make an excuse to himself . _It's not like I'm going to have company anytime soon anyway . _. . He sighed as he walked to the bathroom , wondering why he suddenly felt a sense of emptiness and failure at that thought , when he never had before .

He was the first one of the team in the building , and had already been there for several hours by the time Hotch stepped off the elevator at 6:00 and walked through the bullpen on his way to his office . Unfortunately the workaholic effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that he had his arms folded on his desk , head pillowed on top of them , and he was fast asleep . His breathing was slow and audible , his lips slightly slack , and a little puddle of drool was beginning to form in the corner .

Hotch tried not to let his mouth quirk up in a small smile of affection as he watched , but finally gave in . He had to take his smiles when they came , these days . He hesitated , weighing whether to wake him or simply walk away , letting him maintain his dignity , knowing how easily Spencer could become acutely embarrased .

Then Morgan stepped off the elevator

Walked up . Grinned . And slammed his ready bag on the desk next to Spencer's head .

Spencer sputtered awake , startled into conciousness for the second time that morning , and none too happy about it . His body jerked upright , one of his arms flailed out and knocked over a pile of case files that were on his desk . His coffee cup , hit by the falling files , tilted and splashed coffee onto the desk , but miraculously did not tip over .

Spencer shook his head and looked up at Morgan with an annoyed expression on his face , compressing his lips and narrowing his eyes . .

" Rough night , kid ? " Morgan chuckled , returning Reid's glare with a grin that held absolutely no malice . Just good natured teasing between friends . " Maybe I could get a few tips from you , I've been going through a dry spell lately " It was a familiar joke . Maybe a little too familiar .

Just as he opened his mouth to reply , the heat in his face rising as he remembered earlier that night , a smoky alto voice came from behind Morgan "

"Maybe that's because you've already dated every available women in your peer group , plus anyone that was still standing by last call " Prentiss shot at Morgan , smirking .

"Hey now " Morgan warned playfully , turning the grin on her .

Hotch smiled and walked to his office

The day had begun .

to be continued ..


	2. Chapter 2

Spencer was on his third cup of coffee and his twentieth interdepartmental memo when JJ came out of Hotch's office and headed down the stairs , the usual file tucked under her arm . Hotch followed with a grim look on his face . The solemn face was nothing new , but the past year had taken its toll on him in so many indefinable ways . His face seemed more haggard , lines more pronounced , a tiredness around his eyes and the slant of his shoulders that told of many sleepless nights and bad dreams .

_I know _ Spencer said silently to the man approaching them , before the others noticed he was close . _ I get it . But you won't talk to anyone . Not even me . Not since ... _

He put down his cup and pushed his chair back , beginning to rise . Morgan and Prentiss looked up , and he nodded at Hotch , coming towards them .

"Conference Room in 10 " Hotch said in his serious tone , " We just caught a case" He kept walking . The three profilers grabbed what they needed and followed in his wake .

_Not since she died ... _Spencer sighed under his breath , slinging his bag over his shoulder as he walked and giving a little wave to Rossi as he stepped through the BAU's glass doors . Rossi shot him a questioning look from across the room and Spencer nodded . Time to get to work .

A short while later they sat in their familiar places at the round conference table listening to J.J. as she spelled out the details in the calm , detached tone she always used to describe the horrifying images on the screen behind her .

" ... the bodies ... or pieces of bodies " she explained as the screen flashed shots of severed limbs , decomposing torsos , unrecognizable heads "were found in and on the shores of Tampa Bay in various jurisdictions over the past 14 months . Possible ligature marks were identified on two of the wrists and one ankle , but the condition of the bodies from the water and attacks by scavengers made it impossible to determine exact cause and time of death . Without any solid leads and no evidence linking them .." J.J. shrugged . " the cases were listed as unsolved , and no longer actively pursued . No one wanted to cry "serial killer" and start a panic "

Eyes turned from J.J. to the images , except for Garcia , who glanced at them quickly and then resumed doodling on her notepad .

"But it's a pretty fair bet that none of them cut themselves into pieces and dumped themselves in the Bay." Rossi said with a disgusted look .

Morgan gave a small snort of a laugh and the corner of Prentiss's mouth twitched up once as J.J. continued , with a nod of agreement .

" ... Several of the men had been reported missing and Tampa police are now wondering if these deaths are linked to even more disappearances . Family members and community leaders have been pushing for an investigation for months, but before now nothing substantial turned up , except circumstantial links between a few of the victims. Those who were able to be identified ranged in age from 19 to 23 , they were all young gay males , described as " very attractive" and "social" . In other words .." J.J. allowed herself a small amused smile at the euphemism to break the tension ." they liked to party"

"Easy targets" Hotch observed , as the others nodded at the familiar scenario . More often than not , the cases that took the longest to piece together and solve were the ones whose victim pool came from what most upstanding citizens considered the outskirts of society . Prostitutes . The Homeless . Single Young Gay Men .

Now the nightmarish slideshow was replaced by a series of photos . A Headshot , a carefully posed photograph , a yearbook picture , a few candid snapshots . Smiling or pouting handsome young men , clearly engaged with the camera . Performing for it . Comfortable with themselves , showing no outward signs of awkwardness or shyness . For one small second Spencer found himself envying them , before he remembered that these were probably the last happy moments they had experienced , before an untimely , far too young death . He cleared his throat quietly and shifted in his seat , feeling a little ashamed . Hotch's eyes turned to him for a moment , but moved back to J.J. before they could be noticed .

"... Jason Gabriel Lecours , Michael Bradley Lee , Crispin Johann Wier , Caleb Joseph Anderson , Stephen James Daniels " J.J. said the names softly , respectfully , pausing between each one as the pictures flashed on the screen . " The other two were listed as John Doe " She paused , a momentary look of sadness passing across her face .

" So why now ? " Morgan spoke up . " You said it was all circumstantial . Why are we being called in ? "

Spencer sat up in his chair , eyes going unfocused and lost for a moment as his mind played back J.J.'s words

"You said _before now _" he said , looking up at J.J. curiously "What changed their minds ? "

J.J. smiled at him , always surprised by the depth of his attention to the most passing of remarks , even though they all knew saying anything in front of him was like speaking into a tape recorder . Months later , when she had completely forgotten a conversation , Spencer could recite passages of it to her . It was convenient or infuriating , depending on the circumstances .

"This" she answered , pushing the button on the device in her hand that controlled the scrolling images . The young men faded out , to be replace by another dead body .

Unlike the other bodies , this one was almost intact . Naked and wet with spray , laying on an outcrop of rock , arms folded and tied in front , ankles lashed together . Eyes closed . Hair slicked back from the water , dark blonde . A model perfect face with high cheekbones and a full mouth , lips parted slightly . Viewed from the waist up , the picture was almost peaceful .

Spencer scanned the image , fixing it in his head forever , to live with all the other images of dead bodies he had collected over the years .

"Eviscerated" He said simply , nodding . Below the waist the young man's abdomen was split in a gaping smile from above one hip to the other . Where there should have been organs spilling out was a clean , empty hole , skin pulling back to show the muscle beneath .

"Billy Stockhausen" J.J. named him quietly . " The scion of a prominent Tampa family . Until now he was believed to be somewhere in Europe , taking in the sites before he went into the family business . There is a string of hotel bills and credit card receipts to back that up . His mother has so far refused to cooperate with police , claiming there is no possible way her son could have anything to do with these other deaths , demanding the investigation focus on him , and threatening to sue the police department for libel even though several witnesses have come forward with reports of seeing him in popular gay nightspots in the area before his "vacation" "

"She doesn't want to believe her son is gay " Prentiss remarked , shaking her head ."Even if it helps solve his murder "

J.J. nodded "That's about the jist of it . The police have been getting pressure from a local grass roots organization to widen the investigation , but they don't have any solid leads and recently several LGBT media outlets have run stories about the "cover-up" .

"They're caught between a rock and a hard place " Rossi said in his sarcastic tone " Piss off a large vocal group who aren't afraid to enlist the media , or piss off the pillars of the community . Calling us in was their best option ."

"Whether it was a political move or not isn't important " Hotch interjected , with a voice of quiet authority . "If the cases are linked , we have a string of bodies going back over a year . That means .. "

"Whoever the unsub is " Rossi picked up the sentence smoothly without missing a beat ".. they aren't about to stop . Unless we stop them "

"Looks like we're heading to Florida " Morgan said cheefully , with a wink to Garcia "Throw that thong in your ready bag , Baby Girl "

Garcia shot him a look , raising her eyebrow , and then laughed "Don't think I don't have one , my chocolate Adonis ." she glanced at Hotch nervously ' ummmm , that is ... I'm all business , sir . "

Hotch gave her a distracted nod and pushed his seat back , standing " Wheels up in an hour . I'll meet you there - I have to go make arrangements for Jack" He left the room abruptly , pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and dialing before he was even out of the door .

The remaining team glanced at each other after he left , sad and concerned looks on their faces .

"It's going to take time " Rossi reassured them " He'll be fine"

Spencer nodded slowly , his knuckles grazing his lips , eyes filled with pain .

"He'll be fine" he echoed softly " Of course he will . He's Aaron Hotchner ."


	3. Chapter 3

As always , the Florida heat welcomed them with her sticky , fragrant embrace as soon as they stepped off the plane. Spencer felt the back of his neck start to prickle with sweat before he made it from the tarmac to the waiting car . He sat in his usual position in the back seat , behind Aaron , looking at the back of his neck under the clipped , precise haircut , not a drop of perspiration showing . He'd always been slightly envious of the unit chief's ability to keep a smooth facade under the most harsh of circumstances . Spencer could be covered with dirt from tramping down a muddy embankment , out of breath , clothes askew , hair everywhere from running after a fleeing suspect . As the team regrouped , there would be Hotch , tie straight , jacket buttoned , every hair in place . Spencer had no idea how he did it . When Hotch was dishevelled , you knew things were really bad .

_Jack sprawled on the floor ,playing with action figures , making small boy fighting noises , lost in some pretend world where the good guys always win . J.J. hovered protectively over him , blocking his view of the paramedics leaving the house , a bulky black bag between them . Hotch sat on a straight backed chair , his head in his hands until the noise of another person entering the room made him jerk up in a hypervigilant defensive gesture . His eyes locked on Spencer's for a long moment , haunted , lost . His shirt was dark stained and ripped , tie loose , hair a mess . He pushed it back with a hand still showing traces of freshly scrubbed off blood . For the first time , Spencer saw Hell as something other than a theological abstract . _

He shook the memory from his head with a frown and tried to concentrate on the conversation between Hotch and Rossi in the front seat .

"The meet is a go " Rossi was saying , his cell phone held to his ear " Their liaison will meet us at the police station shortly after we get there "

Hotch nodded . "Good . I'd rather the civilian organizations were working for us than against us "

"Thanks J.J. " Rossi said into the phone .He clicked it shut and turned towards Hotch and Reid " Det. Marrero told J.J. that once they knew we had been brought on board and set up the meeting , they agreed to shut down any further negative publicity . I don't know how much use he'll be to us , but it can't hurt having someone who's familiar with the local subculture to fill us in . "

Spencer leaned forward between the seats as he spoke "If we can establish links between locations where the victims were known to frequent , I could start working on a geographical profile . Or he might know of other places where witnesses haven't come forward yet "

"We'll operate under the assumption that all these cases are linked for now" Hotch said . "But keep an open mind. "

"Was the unsub unable for some reason to do a better job of disposing of this last body , or was there something about this kill that was different? " Rossi questioned , thinking out loud .

The image of Billy Stockhausen floated behind Spencer's eyes . "There was something about the way the body was positioned" he said quietly "It was ... tranquil . Almost reverential"

"And easily found" Hotch continued "As if he didn't want the elements or predators to have time to destroy it "

"Intentional." Rossi agreed. "If he was interrupted , or just tossing away his refuse , it would have looked more haphazard , less posed "

"And yet the other bodies were found dismembered and allowed to decay. " Hotch said. "If we are dealing with the same unsub that distinction could be critical."

"Mrs. Stockhausen wants to believe that her son was not like all the other victims " Rossi commented 'It looks like even if he was killed by the same person , she was right in some way . What we have to do is figure out what it was that made Billy special ... to whoever killed him . "

Spencer narrowed his eyes and chewed his lip thoughtfully . He already had several theories about the hostile reaction of the patrician Mrs. Stockhausen . Shock , if the possibility of her son's alternative sexuality had come as a surprise to her . Anger , if it had not and was now being revealed to the world without her consent . Guilt , if she had not even been aware that her son was in the country when he had been killed. The probability of Billy Stockhausen being killed in Europe and transported back was far too small to be considered yet. As usual , Spencer filtered his thoughts through his close , albeit unusual , relationship with his own mother . He had learned from so many cases that not every mother was loving , not every family was understanding . Even though his relationship with Diana Reid was complicated and at times intense , he did not doubt that she loved him . Believed in him .

And yet , he had to wonder what she would think if ...

Their arrival at the police station prevented him from further analysis on the subject , thankfully .

A short while later , they were shown into a room with several wall boards covered with the same pictures they had seen earlier at Quantico . The rest of the team had already arrived , and J.J. introduced them to Det. Marrero and a few of the other officers who would be working with them . Soon they were informally comparing notes and ideas about the case while they waited for the civilian liaison to join them .

The door opened and a man who looked to be in his late twenties entered the room . A shoulder bag similar to Spencer's hung across his body , and his pastel pink polo shirt and crisp khaki pants made him look casually professional . Light brown hair cut close to his head continued the look , but the gold hoop in one ear gave him a small touch of rebellion . He strode towards them confidently , extending his hand in greeting as he came closer .

"Michael Bigg ." He introduced himself , as Hotch stepped forward to accept the handshake . "I'm so glad you've come - now finally we may get some justice for those poor murdered boys . I know this is just a blip in Your radar screen , but the community is close to hysteria and no one seems to .. " his eyes strayed over Hotch's shoulder , widened , and a gleeful grin suddenly took over his face . " DIVA ! " His voice rose higher into an almost-squeal of delight .

Garcia rushed forward from the table where she had been occupied with hooking up her laptop . Her arms were held out and she gave a happy surprised laugh . "Michael ! Sweetie ! It's been Ages ! "

They hugged for a long moment , while the rest of the team looked at them quizzically .

"Ooooo girlfriend - when did you go Red ? " Michael teased her , lifting a lock of her hair while she swatted at him . He gave her colorful outfit a long look up and down with an appraising eye " And I see you're still shopping at the Drag rummage sale ."

"Oh hush you " Penelope scolded him playfully " I'm working "

"I heard you turned pro , but - the FBIIIII ? " Michael asked , raising an eyebrow and drawing the last initial out .

" Well , you're hardly a twink in a thong anymore either , are you sweetcheeks ? " she retorted .

Hotch cleared his throat softly .

Garcia linked her arm in Michael's and turned to face the group , still grinning , without a trace of embarrassment .

"Michael and I go waaaaay back. To my misspent youth in San Fran . " she explained .

"This explains so much" Emily said with a sly smile . Morgan chuckled , as Garcia stuck her tongue out at them and began to introduce everyone . Reid gave the little wave he usually offered instead of a hand , and Michael smiled at him , his eyes twinkling slightly as he returned the gesture , wiggling his fingers . Spencer could feel a small blush rising on his cheeks , and his eyes darted , hoping no one had noticed .

Michael shook his head slowly , a small smile of amazement still playing across his lips ."This has to be a sign . We're going to find this monster . Ms. Thing here , " he said with affection , nodding at Garcia " has always been up in everybody's bizness as long as I've known her ."

"You know I'll turn over every rock , look into every crevice , and air everybody's dirty laundry until I find something that leads us in the right direction " Garcia said sincerely , patting his arm , not insulted in the least ." I promise you , his ass is mine . Or her ass is . Whichever "

"I have complete faith in you and your team , my love " Michael assured her . " Just let me know how I can help"

Hotch stepped forward , apparently unaware of Garcia's recent promotion to unit chief . " Any blanks you can fill in about places the victims may have been seen , people they may have come into contact with , would be helpful . The more we know about them as people , the more we can understand about how or where they may have been targeted "

"We're here to listen" J.J. chimed in , nodding "No detail is too small . It may mean nothing , but sometimes something seemingly unimportant can be the turning point in a case . "

Michael set his bag on a table and gave a relieved sigh "That's all we've been trying to do " he said . A small light of anger flashed in his eyes , but it passed quickly and he began to pull out folders of papers and news clippings .

"I know a lot of these young men led troubled lives , but they weren't disposable . They had friends and loved ones that they mattered to . One night they would be out at the movies , having dinner , going to a club , and the next they were just ... gone . Until someone pulled parts of them out of the water " He gave a small shudder . " and sometimes not even that . Just gone . It happened too many times , and no one seemed to notice but us .

So ... Stonewall South was born . To make sure they weren't forgotten . "

"The Stonewall Riots" Spencer echoed , his voice taking on the slight monotone that meant he was imparting information stored in his brain somewhere out of the way until the moment it became relevant "Friday evening , June 27th , 1969 . New York city tactical police forces raided a popular Greenwich village gay bar , the Stonewall Inn . The streets erupted into violence as the crowds in the bar fought back . The next several nights of protest became known as the Stonewall Riots . It's often called the firing shot of the gay liberation movement , and the catalyst for the Gay Pride movement "

Michael tilted his head "The boy knows his history " , he said approvingly " Exactly "

" There's a fairly good chance "the boy" knows everything " Rossi observed " We try not to hold it against him . "

Spencer gave Rossi a puzzled look , eyebrows knotting , then turned his attention back to Michael . " You used the word "troubled" to describe the victims , and there is some evidence linking several of them to recreational drugs and sex ." he paused and frowned , licking his lips quickly as he searched for the words , wondering if this was one of those situations where tactful phrasing would be required . Those always gave him trouble . He decided against it . "There is a lot of risk involved in that lifestyle . What could someone like Billy Stockhausen possibly have in common with them , other than a few hearsay accounts that he was seen at a gay bar ? "

There was a tiny collective intake of breath , and Det. Marrero gave a conspiratorial smile , as if Reid had corroborated his own opinions . But Spencer stood his ground , and met Michael's eyes honestly and without judgement . He was just presenting an argument . Michael held his gaze for a moment , looked at the detective , and back at Spencer . Then he answered with the same candid calm tone .

"Money talks " he said , rubbing the fingers of one hand together in the universal symbol of cash . "Billy may not have ever been arrested or caught with his pants down , but he could party with the best of them . Trust me . I've seen him do it . His mommy thought he was all innocent and pure ." he continued , his voice sounding slightly less sympathetic than it had when talking about the other victims . " I hate to speak ill of the dead , but ... Billy was a horndog , pure & simple . With expensive tastes "

"And you were going to share the information that you knew Mr. Stockhausen when ? " Det. Marrero said , obviously annoyed .

Michael shrugged , with a slight roll of his eyes " I did tell you I had reason to believe that the cases were linked . You said you'd follow up with me , but you never seemed to have time for an interview " he answered , and then sighed . "We weren't really friends or anything . I hadn't run into him for a long time . We used to hang in the same places for a while , that's all . A lot of these guys did .There just aren't that many alternatives. It's not like this is New York or L.A or something . Or San Francisco " he finished with a small wink to Garcia .

Hotch put a hand on the detective's arm in a calming gesture . "This isn't accomplishing anything . Whatever happened in the past , we need to move forward and work together " he said in a quiet firm voice . " Tell us about these places . If we can find a common ground between All of these victims " he emphasized the word _all _ " We might be able to solve this case. Isn't that what we all want ? "

" Yes .. of course it is " Det. Marrero said , his tone becoming professional and serious again "you know - when this all started " he explained to Hotch "we did try to do interviews with friends of some of the other victims we had been able to identify , went to the bars , asked for witnesses to come forward . Nothing . No one wanted to talk to us "

" I know you did " Michael said with a slightly bitter smile . "I remember . Uniforms . With Attitude . Walking around like they might catch something . I'm sorry , Detective , but it didn't exactly inspire trust . "

"I'm so sorry , hon " Garcia sympathized , trying to defuse the situation . "but we want to fix all that now . That's why we're here . "

"I'm sorry too " Michael turned and hugged her , his eyes slightly moist . " I don't know what's gotten into me .. It's all just so ... ugly . " he squared his shoulders , and put on a brave smile " I came to help , not to have a pity party .. soooo .. " he smiled at Hotch "What would you like to know , tall , dark and dreamy ? "

Morgan's eyes sparked with amusement and he opened his mouth to make a comment but then Aaron looked over at him and he thought better of it . Emily looked away innocently , while J.J. and Garcia suddenly found an interesting file on the table . Rossi just smirked .

Spencer swallowed and coughed , waiting for Hotch's reaction . Poor Michael . He had seemed so nice .

To the entire room's amazement , the older man turned to Michael with a small , gentle smile . Only Spencer was standing close enough to see the sadness in those dark eyes. It was so profound , so deep , that for a moment he felt the breath knocked out of him . Hotch's thoughts seemed to turn inward as he considered the question . Finally , after a long silence that seemed to make everyone else but himself uncomfortable , he spoke .

"Say I wanted to find a young man who was - hmmm ..how do I put this exactly ? Someone . ... extraordinarily uninhibited ' again the slow subtle smile " Wild . Someone who would go to a private place with someone they had just met to ... experiment ? "

" Oh .. that's easy " Michael answered without hesitation . " Temptation . In Ybor . Everyone knows that's where all the slutbunnies are . " he frowned " You think they were killed because they liked sex . "

Hotch shook his head " No. But it's possible they were killed because they trusted the wrong person . And the wrong person may have met them in a place like that . I'd like to have some of my people look around , ask some questions . Without attitude , I promise you . This sounds like a good place to start ."

"I agree" Rossi said . " And I'd like to follow up with Mrs. Stockhausen now that we have this new information on her son . Maybe I can get her talking . "

"Good luck with that " Det. Marrero told him :" She isn't going to want to hear anything that paints her son as a pervert . Pardon the expression " he finished with a semi-apologetic glance at Michael . "Those were her words."

"If she wants to be in denial , that's her problem" Michael said sadly . "I'm sorry she lost her son , but she isn't the only one ."

"Tell us what you can about those young men " Hotch said sympathetically . " Then we'll start trying to find some answers . Emily , you go with Rossi to interview Mrs. Stockhausen . A women's perspective might help . Morgan and I will start asking questions and looking for witnesses . Reid , you and J.J. coordinate here from the station - I want you to start analyzing these files " he gestured at the table in front of him where Michael had spread out the contents of his bag " and see if you can find any other links . Garcia , I want you to track Billy Stockhausen's steps through Europe , Find out where he was and when . " He spoke quickly and with assurance , the other team members nodding in assent .

"I don't think you want to do that " Michael warned .

"Do what ? " Hotch asked , with a small frown .

"Ummm ... go to Temptation ... trying to be discrete ... with Him " Michael pointed at Morgan . " You may as well hang a sign around his neck saying "Come and get it " . You won't be able to get a word in edgewise with all the guys trying to stick their phone numbers in his pocket "

Spencer laughed . He couldn't help it . "I think he's used to it " he said , trying to contain a small giggle . "It's just part of being Morgan . Only it's usually girls . "

"Funny , kid " Morgan barked at him , but there was a smile behind the gruff voice " I can't help it if I'm irresistible"

"Enough ." Hotch said in a no nonsense voice .

Michael looked at him , then Reid , then back at Hotch .

"You " he said , looking at Reid .

"Huh ? " Spencer replied , the confusion obvious in his face " I... ummmm .. I'm .. .. " he stammered " I didn't mean to be rude .. or insensitive ... Morgan and I just .. that is ...we ... " he trailed off

Michael turned to Hotch " You two should go . You won't draw too much attention to yourselves , but you won't seem out of place either . You look ... right together "

Spencer coughed again , looking around the room and feeling the heat rising on his neck . He caught Garcia's eye . She grinned at him . He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse .

Morgan shrugged nonchalantly " Hotch , I've worked obsessional crimes before . I can do the victimology . Whatever works , man " he said , not quite hiding a small sigh of relief in his voice .

Aaron watched Spencer as he reacted . It wouldn't hurt him to have more exposure in the field . He would never improve his people skills if he kept being locked away in the police station looking at files and evidence . Maybe he had been counting on that too much , not letting him grow as an agent , too afraid of his emotional reactions after one bad afternoon where he had questioned if he could trust Reid's judgement , his ability to be impartial . So much had happened since then . It was his own judgement he doubted now .

"Reid , I'd like you to do this " he said softly . "Michael's right , it make sense . We want to keep a low profile , and you are good at reading non-verbal cues . You might see something that Morgan or I would miss "

Spencer looked at them both , licking his lips nervously before he spoke "I'm not really ... ummmm ... a bar kind of person . Are you sure ? " he looked at Hotch helplessly .

Hotch gave him a small reassuring smile "You'll be fine . "

" Do you know how long I've wanted to give you two a makeover ? This is the perfect time ! " Garcia teased , looking over Hotch's dark suit and Spencer's buttoned-down shirt and vest . "There's no way you can pass looking like that !"

"Pass ? " Spencer questioned uncertainly

" Never mind , just kidding " Garcia giggled , as Hotch shot her a warning look .

"Don't be silly , darling. They're adorable !" Michael exclaimed . "I wouldn't change a thing !"

Spencer ran his bottom lip through his teeth and his expression became even more anxious and uncertain . This was just another assignment , and he had been out in the field with Aaron before , although it had been a long time since it had just been the two of them . Why should this be any different ? Yes , it was a bar , and yes , there would be men there , drinking , dancing , standing close to each other , looking at each other with desire in their eyes ...

_... and when we walk in there , at least until they talk to us , they're going to think I'm Aaron's "date" . _, he realized , his eyes widening a little .

He tried to read Aaron's face , to see if the same thoughts might have occured to him and how he might be dealing with them , but the emotion had gone from the older man's face and it was once again an impassive mask , revealing nothing as he looked down at the photo's and clippings spread across the table .

Spencer sighed . So much for non-verbal clues .


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N - sorry for the wait, everyone - hope you enjoy **

**and a HUGE thank you to my amazing beta, LestatHughLover , for cheering me on and poking me in the right direction when I need it. This story wouldn't have happened without you. One day I'll get spellcheck and make your life easier ;) **

The red brick facades of the hundred year old former cigar factories were visible from the interstate overpass as the standard black SUV pulled off at the exit, passing a sign marked "Ybor City - Historic District". Fast food restaurants, fenced off parking lots and blocks of new apartments designed to look quaintly aged started giving way to more ramshackle truly older buildings. The sun was beginning to set and the sky had taken on an amber glow, with red tinted clouds and a few early twinkling stars. Michael directed Hotch to turn onto a narrow, two-lane street, past an ornate example of Moorish inspired Spanish architecture with plastered walls, colorful tile and arched windows. The traffic slowed to accommodate cars full of weekend partiers and grumbling motorcycles with leather clad riders.

"This reminds me of New Orleans" Hotch said as they passed low buildings with iron balconies overhanging wide sidewalks made from octagonal pavers. Victorian style streetlamps and neon bar lights blinked on as the light from the sky faded. Customers ducked in and out of the bars, restaurants, quirky gift shops and tattoo parlors that lined the street. Chic high end designer clothes mixed with funky vintage alternative fashion and the shorts and T-shirts of the ubiquitous pale northern tourists.

Spencer glanced up from the map he had been memorizing in the back seat. "Spanish architectural features are common to most of the buildings here on 7th Ave and also those in the French Quarter" he said, continuing without taking a breath. "Most people believe that the Vieux Carre as it's also known is predominantly French in style but in 1788 during the Spanish rule of New Orleans a fire destroyed 850 buildings in the old city and 200 more were lost to another in 1794. They were replaced with fashionable architecture featuring this type of iron and tile work. This street dates back to 1885 when Ybor City was the cigar manufacturing capitol of the world and most of its residents were Cuban, Spanish and Italian."

"I think that's not all they have in common" Hotch said, braking for a wildly dressed group of college-aged kids who darted out into the street in front of the SUV, laughing and jostling each other. Obviously they had started the party somewhere else and were now moving it to the local clubs.

"It gets pretty rowdy here after dark, especially on the weekends" Michael agreed with a small smile at Spencer's history lesson. "Not a place you'd want to bring the kiddies."

"But an excellent place for a little anonymous hunting" Hotch said darkly, as Spencer nodded quietly in agreement.

They left the SUV in a parking garage, and after a quick check-in at the local police substation on the corner they turned onto 7th Ave for the short walk to the club. Spencer looked around attentively along the way, fixing their location against the map that was now in his head and the places where the bodies were found. "This location is at the apex of a small peninsula that is bisected by the Hillsborough River and the Channel" he said, talking while he dodged around a couple holding hands to catch up with Hotch and Michael. "Below that is Hillsborough Bay, with Old Tampa Bay to the west. Further south they connect and become Tampa Bay. The Interstate puts all the prime dumping sites within about a 20 minute drive. I'd say there is a good chance that we could be very close to the unsub's comfort zone."

"Good work, Reid" Hotch acknowledged. "It looks like we might be on the right track. Hopefully tonight will bring us that much closer to finishing the profile."

As they walked on, Spencer was suddenly aware that the couple they had passed holding hands were both male. Several other same-sex couples in small groups, both men and women, now strolled along the sidewalks around them. Somewhere ahead, an opening door let a spill of loud thumping music into the night. One of the men broke into an impromptu dance move, grinding his hips and raising a hand in the air as his friends laughed.

Michael turned to them with a grin. "Gentlemen, welcome to Gaybor, as we affectionately call it." He pointed down a side street towards the source of the noise. "That monstrosity would be our destination."

Ahead stood a sprawling plastered edifice that covered the entire block. It looked like two buildings that had been shoved together, one two-storied with iron-balconied windows and what looked like a bell-tower with a flat tile roof set diagonally at the corner, the other three-storied, its windows rectangular and plain, but surrounded by concrete embellishments invoking the pointed arches of a gothic cathedral. A narrow sign ran down the side of the bell tower, red neon spelling out the word "Temptation". The crossbar of the "T" curled away and ended in a small arrow like a devil's tail. Under the tower a small corner was cut into the building, the overhang sheltering an arched wooden doorway guarded by a bouncer checking ID's. A line stretched around the sidewalk, eagerly waiting to go in.

Spencer's eyes widened slightly as he surveyed the structure. "Wow" he said softly to himself, then turned to Michael. "Does the club utilize the entire building?" He knew there were places in his own hometown of Las Vegas that would make this seem like a tiny dive, but it was still fairly impressive.

"It's sort of a maze inside" Michael explained. "There are three dance floors, a show bar, a small cabaret, and some quiet places to chill out. A few VIP rooms for parties. The rest is the private residence of the owner, Mr. Darque. Oh, and the backrooms. Forget I mentioned them." he said with a small chuckle. "You probably don't want to know what goes on in there. I doubt they'll want to answer any questions."

"Oh" Spencer blushed. "Right"

"That's a lot of ground to cover" Hotch frowned. "We can start in the main areas, see if anyone is familiar with one or more of the victims, or knows of anyone approaching them here. Make sure they have our contact number. If you see anyone who fits the unsub's victim preference, find out if they have been asked to leave by someone they turned down because it didn't feel "right". Instinct can be a valuable red flag at times. We can split up to cover the smaller rooms."

"I'll go give security a heads up." Michael said. "And I'll spread the word in there that you guys are on our side. Maybe someone will come forward that didn't want to talk last time."

Michael turned to go and Spencer felt a sudden little knot of panic in his stomach as Hotch's statement about splitting up inside the club sunk in. He tried to ward it off by falling back on an explanation of the current research studies on the relationship between fear, instinct, and the anterior cingulated cortex, but just as he opened his mouth Hotch layed a hand on his arm. He stopped, his attention drawn to the look in Hotch's eyes. Serious. Searching. For no apparent reason his throat was now too dry to utter words and he couldn't turn his gaze away.

"I know this isn't going to be easy for you." Hotch said gently, still looking deeply into Spencer's eyes. "It's a little out of my comfort zone too. You've been around long enough to know that we do the job anyway. I have faith in you, Reid. Maybe I haven't said that enough, lately. So I'm saying it now."

Spencer compressed his lips and answered Hotch's serious expression with his own. He cleared his throat before he spoke. "I ... Know you do. Have faith in me." He nodded, his face taking on an expression of determination and resolve. "You know you can count on me." Without his meaning to, the words came out with a trace more emotion than they should have if he were just talking about a case, and he wondered if Hotch had noticed.

A hint of warmth came into Hotch's eyes and he gave a sad smile. "Spencer, you are one of the few things I do count on." he answered.

Then Michael called them over to the door, the bouncer holding it open for them and waving them in, and the moment was over. They threaded through the crush of bodies on the sidewalk and went inside.

They were in a long darkened hallway lit only by red and orange waves of neon above them, shaped to look like flickering flames. The walls were illuminated enough to notice that they were covered by a mural. Shapes of men, scantily dressed if at all, in passionate embraces with horned and tailed figures of aesthetic perfection. Other openings branched off at the end of the hall, the sounds of thumping music and the hum of conversations coming from them. Sweaty men, some carrying drinks, moved between the doorways. A young man with a tray balancing glasses high over his head, wearing only what appeared to be red latex shorts with a small horned tail dangling from his shapely behind, gave them a smile and a wink as they moved closer, then disappeared behind a curtain of chains hung from one of the archways.

Hotch and Spencer exchanged a look, half bemused, half astonished, but the music was getting too loud for anything but a close up intimate conversation, so they kept moving. Spencer pulled out a stack of flyers from his shoulder bag, with photos of the identified victims and the number to call with information. He handed some to Hotch and some to Michael with a questioning look at the numerous doorways. Hotch nodded at one with a shrug. May as well start there. He unconsciously moved a little closer to the older man, walking in his wake, as they stepped inside, provoking a few amused smiles from men who stepped aside to let them pass. One of them moved in and he felt a warm tickle of breath in his ear.

"First time, cutie?" the man whispered to him seductively. "Don't worry. Most of us don't bite. Even though you do look pretty tasty."

Spencer's eyes widened and he scurried closer to Hotch as he walked ahead.

They found themselves in a sizeable high-ceilinged room, styled to look like a Moroccan courtyard. The walls were peach plaster carved in the shape of a pseudo-palace, with frosted glass windows lit from behind as if by flickering candlelight. A dark blue ceiling twinkled with tiny lights imitating stars, and artificial palm trees bent over small tables ringing a large dance floor. The scantily clad employees threaded the crowd, dropping off drinks with teasing glances. Men in varying shades of undress worked their bodies to the relentless beat of the music. Several broad carved columns rose above the dancers to different heights, each one topped with a sensuously grinding go-go boy wearing even less than the waiters.

"What it lacks in sophistication it makes up for in atmosphere." Michael deadpanned, leaning in close.

Slowly they worked around the edge of the flashing dance floor, stopping to talk to men taking a breather from the writhing crowd, handing out flyers to those who would take them, with mixed results. No one remembered being approached by anyone that creeped them out, but a few had seen one or more of the victims in the club around the time of their disappearance. Spencer tried to ignore the eyes traveling up and down his body as they talked, the flirty smiles that sometimes stopped when he identified himself as an FBI agent, but sometimes didn't. Hotch was attracting his share of attention too. He pictured the stampede that might have ensued if Morgan had come instead and a smile crossed his face.

"Nice smile." A young man with dishevelled curly hair leaned on the table, shirt tied around his waist, sweat glistening on his chest. "He yours?" He nodded at Hotch, in mid-conversation with someone else.

"No... Well, yes... Well... not exactly." Spencer stammered.

"Can't make up his mind?" the man said in a teasing voice. "Flash that smile at him a few more times, babe. He'll come around. Or you can just come with me and I'll make you forget all about him." He offered a hand to lead Spencer onto the dance floor.

"Actually ... ummmm ... I'm working." Spencer flashed his ID and backed a little closer to Hotch, bumping into him slightly. "I'm with the FBI. We're investigating the deaths of these men." He held out the flyer. "We think it's possible that whoever is responsible for their disappearances might have met them in this club." The man took the piece of paper and looked it over with a frown, then handed it back.

"This meat market?" he said. "It wouldn't surprise me. I don't know about the others, but this one..." He pointed at a picture of a young man with white blond hair and a provocative pout. "Paris. He used to dance here. Guys hit on the dancers all the time. I thought he just quit, haven't seen him for months."

Spencer looked at the name under the picture. Jason Gabriel Lecours. "Hmmm ... Paris must have been a stage name. Thank you... that's very helpful."

The man shrugged. "No problem. Sure you don't want that dance anyway?" He gave Spencer a mischievous grin. Spencer shook his head quickly and the man stepped back onto the dance floor with a shake of his hips. Spencer found himself tracing the long line of his spine down from his shoulders, lingering over the tattoo on his back, down to the pockets of his jeans as he moved away. _Oh god,_ he thought, blushing again. _I did not just do that. _

"Everything ok?" Hotch questioned, noticing the guilty look on Spencer's face. He nodded and quickly changed the subject, explaining the new information he had just obtained.

"Why don't you follow up on that?" Hotch suggested. "Talk to some of the staff. Maybe he mentioned a problem with one of his "fans" to someone. Michael and I will spread out to the other rooms."

Spencer swallowed nervously, realizing that this meant splitting up, but he had promised Hotch he could do this, and now was not the time to become a liability. "Ok. I'll ...uh ... see you in a few then." Michael walked to the hallway with him, and gave him an encouraging smile as he turned away.

He picked another passage at random, and found himself in a dimly lit room with edgier and harder music. The men seemed to be more muscled and less friendly, with a preponderance of leather and beards. They scowled at him, but still gave his body the once over as he looked for a waiter or bartender to approach. He saw a young man serving drinks, a red leather collar added to the skimpy costume they had seen on the other servers, so he moved in that direction. A strong hand fondled his ass in the darkness, and he made a small surprised gasp, scurrying towards a place where he could survey the crowd from a distance, his back pushed firmly against the wall. Aside from the bewildering attention, he was starting to feel claustrophobic and trapped, dark rooms never being his favorite place to be in, darting his eyes back and forth searching for an escape. He wouldn't let Hotch down, but maybe this wasn't the optimum choice of rooms for him to start in.

As he looked around, his eye caught one of the men in the crowd. Tight leather trousers, muscled torso covered with tattoos, his face and head closely shaved. The man gave him a wicked grin, and lifted the shot glass in his hand towards Spencer with a raise of his eyebrows, clearly suggesting that he buy him a drink. Spencer shook his head in a panicked refusal but the man had already broken from the group around him and was heading his way. He made a small anxious noise and fled backwards still shaking his head, towards a frosted glass door he had seen a few feet away, hoping the man would take the hint and not follow him. He pushed the door open behind him and slipped inside. The noise level dropped to the sounds of hushed conversations and clinking glasses as he shut it firmly, holding onto the doorknob, a little afraid it would turn in his hand as the man in the other room pursued him. Evidently his admirer caught on or decided Spencer wasn't worth the trouble, and after a few moments of standing looking at the shut door he started to feel a little foolish. He licked his lips nervously and turned to look over his shoulder at the room behind him.

It was small and intimate compared to the other parts of the club, the lighting low but warm, coming from brass sconces and candles on the tables. The walls were covered with a dark red velvety wallpaper, and there was a curved bar of polished wood on the far side of the room, punctuated by burgundy leather-upholstered barstools. _Strange. Sort of a cross between a London men's club and a New Orleans turn-of-the-century bordello,_ he thought as he moved away from the door, eyes scanning the small groups of men engrossed in quiet discussions. The bartender, his white tank top and white leather pants making him look positively overdressed in comparison to the rest of the staff, had his back turned, polishing a glass and chatting with an elegantly coiffed man in full makeup and a black dress. At least, Spencer thought he was a man. It was hard to tell.

His eye was caught by a large portrait that hung over the back of the bar, surrounded by shelves of liquor bottles. It looked like a photograph that had been altered to resemble a painting. A nude man posed discretely in an arid desert landscape, half turned so that he was seen from the back, looking over his shoulder. He was undeniably physically attractive, with tousled black hair and a sensuous mouth, his body well-built but not overly muscled. That wasn't however what made the portrait so striking. It was partially the brightly colored tattoos that swirled across his body, making him look as if he were engulfed in flames. They licked up his arms and down the muscles of his thighs, leaving his ass bare. Two lines of fire on his shoulder blades joined and spread into large wings of flame, the points of the flame feathers ending in the small of his back. He looked like some exquisite otherworldly creature that had just fallen to earth, or more likely risen from some hedonistic circle of hell. The other part was the expression in the dark eyes that seemed to look directly into his. Inviting. Hypnotic. Filled with the possibility of wild and naughty pleasures. Tempting him. Spencer swallowed slowly and licked his lips, caught in their depths. The sounds of the bar receded and his mind for a moment imagined another pair of dark eyes shining with the same... lust. There was no other word for it.

"Mmmmm ... You're pretty... can I pet you?" A soft voice murmured into his ear.

Spencer jumped, startled "What? Ummm... NO!" He turned quickly, ready to lash out at this new intrusion, and found himself staring into a pair of wide eyes inches from his own. The bartender had hoisted himself up onto the bar, hips riding the edge, leaning over on his palms so their faces were almost touching. He grinned at Spencer, his expression open and guileless without a trace of innuendo. The smile was so genuine, and the question so random and inappropriate that before he could stop himself the corner of Spencer's mouth began to quirk up, answering the smile, at the same time a blush began to rise on his face. "Nnn... nooo" he repeated more quietly. "Certainly not." An embarrassed grin began to spread across his face.

The young man shrugged and dropped back onto his side of the bar. "Can't blame a boy for trying." he said nonchalantly, the smile still lighting up his face. "What can I get you?"

Spencer thought for a moment. "Ummm ... mineral water. And some information."

The bartender laughed "Oh I'm Full of information." He dropped down behind the bar, producing a bottle of sparkling water and a glass. "What kind are you looking for?" He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

"Not That kind." Spencer said with a slightly stern tone, provoking another giggle from across the bar. "My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm with the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI. We're investigating the disappearances and murders of young men in this area. Ummm..." he coughed slightly "young gay men. We recently discovered that one of them worked here as a dancer. I'm trying to find out anything I can about him from the people who worked with him, especially if he might have mentioned someone approaching him that made him uncomfortable. We think the unsub might have been targeting people he met here, but we don't want to cause an undue panic until we have more information."

"You're a behavioural psychologist?" The young man questioned, his tone suddenly serious. Spencer explained a little about his background and the BAU, trying not to sound like he was bragging about his educational achievements. He'd found it seemed to put people off for some reason. While he was talking, he studied the face on the other side of the bar more closely. The young man across from him looked almost too young to be in a bar, much less a bartender. His eyes were set wide apart on his face, long eyelashes and finely drawn eyebrows with an upward tilt giving him an innocent appearance. Small nose, high cheekbones, and a wide mouth, his lips looking soft and full now that they weren't stretched out in a grin. Even measured against the standard of beauty that seemed to be the norm for the staff, he was something special. It made Spencer wonder if what he had done to his hair was to draw even more attention to himself, or an attempt to escape from the perfection of his face. It was hard to say what color it had been originally. It was cut close in the back and on one side, black fringed with a white blonde across the nape of his neck. A long swoop of hair fell across one eye to his cheekbone, again blonde with bright streaks of purple, blue, and one or two pink. And then there was the jewellery. One eyebrow was pierced with a barbell, and the ear on the short side of his hair was pierced on the side with a series of rings, each one set with a sparkling stone that gave an occasional twinkle when it caught the candlelight.

"Three PhD's?" the bartender said in a respectful tone that caught Spencer a little by surprise. "That's... impressive."

"I suppose so." he said modestly, "but I have an eidetic memory, so that facilitated things quite a bit."

"I bet it did." replied the bartender, the smile returning to his face as he held out his hand. "Hi. I'm Austin. What is it you need to know, Dr. Reid? "

Spencer layed one of the flyers on the bar between them, ignoring the offered handshake, and pointed to a picture. "Jason Gabriel Lecours. Someone just identified him as a dancer here. He used the name Paris."

Austin looked at the pictures on the flyers and Spencer noticed that he gave a small flinch before he answered in a subdued tone. "Yeaaah ... Paris. He worked here. He just didn't show up one day, but... he was like that. Irresponsible. I had no idea he'd been..." he trailed off, an uneasy expression on his face. "Is he one of those boys who was ... in the Bay?"

Spencer nodded, eyes narrowing, paying close attention to Austin's reaction. "Did he ever mention anything about someone approaching him that made him concerned?" He wondered why, if Stonewall South had supposedly made such an outcry in the community about the murdered young men, two people that would have recognized him had been unaware of Paris' death.

Austin looked quickly around the bar before replying. "Ummmm ... I don't Think so ... but ..." he pointed to another picture of a dark haired intense looking boy. "That's ... Berlin." he said with troubled eyes. "He worked here too. He gave notice. Said something better had come along. He was pretty mysterious about it. And sort of gloaty. Phoenix said he was an ungrateful little snot."

"Phoenix?" Spencer questioned

Austin nodded at the portrait above the bar. "Phoenix Darque. My boss."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Phoenix? Paris? Berlin? ... And your name is Austin? Do I sense a theme here?"

Austin laughed. "Mmm hmmm. We're all named after cities. All of Phoenix's boys." He leaned close and whispered conspiratorially to Spencer. "My name really is Austin, though. Was when I met him. I gave him the inspiration."

Spencer felt a heat growing in his face as Austin moved closer, and he quickly pulled back and pointed to the flyer again. "Do you recognize anyone else in these pictures as someone who worked in the club or you may have seen here?"

Austin leaned over and looked at the pictures again, slowly, His fingers drummed nervously on the bar for a moment and then he looked up. "I... don't recognize anyone else." Spencer was almost certain he was lying but he didn't want to press him and make him even more unlikely to confide in him. He pulled his FBI business card out of his shirt pocket and asked Austin for a pen.

"This is my personal number." he said, as he wrote it on the back of the card. "If for any reason you think of something you forgot to tell me about, just call. We can meet in a less public location or at a better time for you."

Austin's eyes twinkled as he took the card. "A less public location?" he teased. "Dr. Spencer Reid, are you trying to get me alone?"

Spencer blushed and opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment the door behind him opened and a loud burst of music entered the room. Austin's gaze went instantly to the door, and an undisguised hunger began to grow in his eyes. His tongue licked quickly at the corner of his mouth, and his innocent smile became seductive and flirty. Spencer turned and looked over his shoulder at the new arrival. He noticed that everyone else, the entire semi-circle of the bar and the half-filled tables seemed to do the same thing, and the air had suddenly gone still and quiet. The drag queen he had seen when he entered, now sitting at one of the tables, had stopped in mid-sentence and in a parody of the sudden silence brought her gloved fingers lightly to her dark lips.

Three figures had stepped through the doorway, standing just inside the door. Two were young, probably the same age as Austin but much brawnier, wearing red tank tops and red leather pants. They had longish hair and were very attractive, but it was obviously the man standing between them who was the center of attention. He was taller than the others, his dark hair shorter, but it framed his face in tousled waves that made him look as if he had just stepped away from someone running their fingers through it. He wore a black silk dress shirt; the sleeves frayed and ripped off to show lightly muscled arms, the buttons undone to display most of his chest. Tight black leather pants oozed down his long legs, into a pair of leopard skin boots that looked like they might be made out of actual leopard fur, or at least a very high quality imitation. He surveyed the room with the attitude of a young prince taking inventory of his kingdom. Spencer noticed the two lines of flame running up his arms and stepped forward, a professional smile on his face, his ID held up in front of him.

"Mr. Darque, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU. We'd like to... "

"I know who you are." Phoenix Darque's voice was smooth and condescending, with a subtle trace of an accent that sounded somewhere between Southern and French. "You're one of those FBI tightasses that Stonewall South dragged down here to freak out my clientele and shut down my bar. My security let you in without telling me. You've had your fun, but it's time to go now." He brushed past Spencer and leaned on the bar. "Austin, you're up."

Austin smiled at the other man teasingly. "I sure am." He grinned, his eyes lingering over Phoenix's crotch.

Phoenix stepped behind the bar and gave Austin's behind a small smack with a roll of his eyes. "Then get it out there and earn some money with it." Austin smiled, completely unoffended by the gesture, and stepped out of the bar, passing Spencer with a small wink. "Nice meeting you, Doctor." He swung his hips a little as he walked to the door. He looked over his shoulder at Phoenix as he went through it, sticking out his tongue and quickly shutting the door behind him before the older man could do anything about it.

Spencer bit his lip and then turned back to Phoenix, a little nervously. "Sir, We really only want to help find out who has been murdering members of your community. I'm sure if you just talked to my supervisor for a few minutes; he'd assure you that we have no intention of causing any sort of problems for your establishment."

Phoenix's eyes travelled from Spencer's face down to his shoes and then back up, slowly. He came out from behind the bar and stepped closer to him. Spencer took a step back and bumped into one of the tables. He held his ground, annoyed with himself for letting the other man intimidate him. He was an FBI agent after all. He had been face to face with serial killers, been held at gunpoint...

Phoenix's hand came out and he brushed Spencer's cheek softly with his knuckles and looked into his eyes with that hypnotically enticing expression.

"I take that back" he drawled softly, and edge of heat in his voice." You don't look like a tightass after all. Is your ass tight?" he took Spencer's wrist, still holding the ID badge and pulled it up to his face so he could read the name. "Hmmmm, Spencer?" '

Spencer blushed furiously, pulling his wrist away. "DOCTOR. Reid." he said through gritted teeth, trying to cover up his embarrassment. "We've been trying to do you a favor by keeping this all low key, but I'm sure if SSA Hotchner feels that we might find useful information here we can come back with a warrant."

"Then SSA Hotchner better get one, because I don't want anyone sniffing around my club." Phoenix said, an amused smile still playing across his lips. "Let's go find SSA Hotchner and tell him, shall we?" He nodded to the two young men in red who had come in with him. One of them took over at the bar; the other pulled out a small radio from his belt and spoke into it quietly.

"The Fed and Bigg are just outside the show room" the one on the radio told Phoenix. "I told Cleveland to hold them there for you."

Phoenix stalked smoothly to the door, opening it and waving Spencer through it with an elegant wave of his hand.

They found Hotch and Michael down a small hallway in earnest discussion with another muscled man in the red tank and pants that seemed to indicate security. Hotch tried with his best professional demeanor to convince Phoenix that cooperating with them would only be in his best interests, but he got no further than Spencer had. Phoenix crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, shaking his head, giving occasional dirty looks to Michael who returned them in kind. _They must have a history, _Spencer thought as he watched them. _Not a good one, from the looks of it. _ He would have to ask Michael about that later, and also why Michael had been so quick to mention Phoenix's club but not tell them that they would most likely not be welcomed there.

Finally Hotch broke away from the conversation and turned to Spencer. "I think we've accomplished all we can here. We'll regroup with the rest of the team tomorrow and plan our next move. Maybe Rossi and Emily got further with Mrs. Stockhausen in their interview tonight"

Spencer had begun packing up the flyers in his bag, when Phoenix touched his back softly, moving between he and Hotch. He gave them both a charming smile. "Agent Hotchner. DOCTOR Reid." he said, putting the same emphasis on Spencer's title that Spencer had earlier, though with slightly less volume. "I realize you're just trying to do your job. I'm just trying to protect my business. It's nothing personal. Give me some time to think about it."

Lights flashed in the hallway and the double door they were standing in front of opened. Men began crowding around them to get into the room. "Let me at least extend some hospitality to you. Stay and see the show, drinks on me. Coffee or soda of course, I know you can't have alcohol." He pressed his hands gently against both of them, and between that and the push of bodies they were swept into the showroom, Michael following them with a suspicious look on his face.

Hotch also seemed to question this sudden reversal of attitude, refusing a table, waiting until the flow of bodies in the doorway subsided before attempting an exit. Just as it did, the doors swung shut again automatically, and the lights darkened. Phoenix stepped in front of them with a nod at the stage.

"Oh, you'll want to see this." his voice caressing in the darkness. "Especially you, Spencer" he added, stepping behind them to give them a better view.

A slow beat punctuated by a ringing guitar line filled the air as a seductive voice came over the PA system. "Welcome to Temptation. The playground for your desires, no matter how wicked and disgusting they are." Cheers erupted from the crowd, and a low chuckle from the announcer. "That's right ...we know how your filthy little minds work." Laughter from the tables. "Tonight ... for your delight, straight from the heavens, you know you want him, but he's out of your league you dirty devils ... Our Own Naughty Angel... AUSTIN! "

A spotlight appeared at the head of the stage, a round circle like a halo illuminating the back of a head. Dark hair, a blonde fringe at the bottom. Spencer's stomach did a little flip, his mouth dropping open slightly, his face turned to the stage. The music swelled into a woman's voice playing wordlessly against the beat. The spot dropped lower, outlining a set of pure white wings as the meaningless syllables took on form.

_Hey boy, take a look at me _

_Let me dirty up your mind. _

_I'll strip away your hard veneer. _

_And see what I can find. _

The spot expanded until Austin's body was completely in view, the white feathered wings curving gracefully down his back, the strap of a thong going around his waist and between his legs, leaving every inch of the soft smooth flesh of his ass exposed. As the light moved across him, he began to slowly move, grinding in a small circle to the beat, letting the audience get a good glimpse of that offered flesh, before turning around and flashing them all a knowing smile, eyes glittering with desire.

_The queerest of the queer _

_The strangest of the strange _

_The coldest of the cool _

_The lamest of the lame _

_The numbest of the dumb _

_I hate to see you here_

_You choke behind a smile _

_A fake behind the fear _

_The queerest of the queer _

Spencer heard the smallest exhalation of breath coming from Hotch standing next to him. He swallowed and turned to the older man. Hotch was standing rigid, his eyes also fixed to the stage, his fists clenched as if he were angry. But the look in his eyes wasn't anger. Spencer felt a familiar warm flush on his cheeks and turned back to the stage. Austin was moving down the long catwalk of stage between the tables with a sexy slink. Reaching his hands out to the men who offered him dollar bills, allowing the ones holding out higher denominations to stick them inside his thong, playfully twisting away from them with a sultry smile if their hands got too intimate.

_This is what he pays me for _

_I'll show you how it's done_

_You learn to love the pain you feel_

_Like father like son. _

_The queerest of the queer _

_Hide inside your head_

_The blindest of the blind _

_The deadest of the dead _

_You're hungry 'cause you starve _

_While holding back the tears _

_Choking on your smile _

_A fake behind the fear _

_The queerest of the queer_

Austin's hands were over his head now, his body taut and writhing in the spotlight, moving closer to the end of the room. Closer to where he and Hotch were standing, hidden in the darkness, even though Spencer felt like every nerve ending was on fire, lighting him up like the powerful spotlight on the boy dancing. The words of the song rang in his ear like they had been written for him. He shook his head. That wasn't possible. They had just come. The show was obviously rehearsed, had been done before. He tried to slow his breathing. Austin moved to the edge of the stage and looked out into the darkness, mouthing the words as he danced closer.

_I know what's good for you (You can touch me if you want) _

_I know you're dying to (You can touch me if you want) _

_I know what's good for you (You can touch me if you want) _

_But you can't stop _

_The queerest of the queer _

_The strangest of the strange _

_The coldest of the cool _

_The lamest of the lame _

_The numbest of the dumb _

_I hate to see you here _

_You choke behind a smile _

_A fake behind the fear _

Phoenix moved up closer behind them, his fingers closing softly on the back of Spencer's and Aaron's necks, curling on them with the barest of touches. Spencer shivered, but couldn't seem to move away, and he felt Aaron's body tense, while a small noise somewhere between a cough and a groan left the other man's body. He felt Phoenix's warm breath as he gave a low chuckle. Austin's hands gripped the pole at the end of the catwalk, and he began twirling and moving around it sensuously, dropping to his knees, the wings spreading out to caress the faces of the men at the closest tables. Keeping one hand on the pole, he arched his body and threw his head back towards the stage. His eyes were half closed and his face wore an expression of ecstasy as he rocked his hips, drawing shouts and whistles from the room.

_The queerest of the queer _

_The strangest of the strange _

_The coldest of the cool _

_You're nothing special here _

_A fake behind the fear _

_The queerest of the queer _

_I know what's good for you _

_I know you're dying to _

_I know what's good for you _

_I bet you're dying to _

Phoenix leaned forward so his head was between Aaron's and Spencer's while he spoke low, the hint of sex in his voice unmistakeable. "Are you getting what you came for now, boys?" he laughed.

Spencer felt himself make a small whimper before he could stop it. His chest rose and fell quickly as his heart beat faster. Austin pulled himself upright, one arm in the air, the other teasing the strap of the white thong, slipping underneath it, pulling it across his creamy thigh. Lower, and then still lower.

_You can touch me if you want _

_You can touch me if you want _

_You can touch me _

_You can touch me _

_But you can't stop. _

**A/N - I usually like to let people envision their own idea of what a character looks like, but in this case I had a very specific image in mind for Austin ( or "Alterna-Austin" as I sometimes call him LOL ) . If you'd like to see it - look up the model Chris Rayner and imagine him with Tommy Joe Ratliff's hair. **

**The song quoted in the fic is "Queer" by the band Garbage. **


	5. Chapter 5

"Must be nice." Rossi remarked sarcastically as they pulled into the parking lot of the Egret Isle Yacht Club, the crown jewel of the Stockhausen family enterprises. They had passed through a gated neighborhood of luxury homes, and now the large Mediterranean styled building spread out before them at the waterfront, the setting sun glinting off the masts of the sailboats and pleasure yachts moored in the harbor behind it.

"Pardon my being blunt" Emily asked "But you were in retirement, and I'm sure your book sales could have bought you one of these floating palaces, But here you are on a beautiful summer evening, getting ready to interview a woman about the death of her son instead of lounging on the deck with a drink in your hand. What gives, Rossi?"

Rossi gave a short burst of laughter as he parked the car. "I'm easily bored. Just ask my ex-wives."

Emily whistled as she got out of the car, surveying the view. "I think I could handle a little of this kind of boredom."

They walked under a columned portico into the red tiled lobby. A large glass wall at the back of the room opened onto the water, and a patio and pool deck could be seen to one side. A few people were enjoying the amenities, sitting on lounge chairs and floating in the pool. A sailboat was docking, and a small group could be seen in the distance disembarking from one of the larger yachts. A discrete plaque by the door pointed the way to the club's office, where Mrs. Stockhausen had said she would meet them. Rossi knocked softly on the door, and then opened it.

They entered a small sitting area decorated in shades of green, a plush carpet muffling the sounds of their footsteps. Paintings of the club's namesake bird in pale pastels hung on the walls, and a large hunter green couch was accented by soft pink pillows and pink marble lamps sitting on the end tables. Another half opened door framed a large modern looking desk made from the same sparkling pink marble, the flat top and two swooping curves for the legs looking like they were formed from one piece.

Rossi announced them, and a woman's voice with a sharp no-nonsense New York accent called them back into the inner office.

"Mrs. Stockhausen?" Emily questioned as the woman behind the desk stood up and moved forward to greet them. From the voice she had been picturing a business suit and a severe haircut. The woman in front of them wore a soft girlish floral silk dress with painted toenails visible in strappy metallic sandals, the thin heels stabbing into the thick carpet as she walked towards them. Her hair was blonde with skilfully applied highlights, the long bangs and messy updo giving her the appearance of a woman in her late twenties, until you looked at her face. But then she spoke and there was no question the voice was hers.

"If you're here to tell me that my son had anything to do with those immoral degenerates, you can walk out of my office right now. I have work to do." she scowled at Emily. "I already told those incompetent rednecks from the police station that my Billy was a fine young man. Headed for great things, once he settled down." She pulled a tissue from a box on her desk and dabbed the corner of her eye, careful not to smear the makeup. "I miss him so much."

Rossi stepped forward, ever the professional, a calming compassionate tone to his voice. "We have yet to find any real evidence that your son knew any of the other victims personally" he said suavely, dancing around the information they had learned from Michael about Billy's habits. "This is just routine. I know it's upsetting, but if you could just answer a few questions for us." He took her by the elbow gently, steering her towards the couch in the outer office, giving Emily a meaningful nod as he passed her. _Look around while I talk to her._

Mrs. Stockhausen's demeanor changed as Rossi came closer to her. She gave him a helpless smile and twisted a lock of hair around her finger. "Call me Regina, please. Thank you for understanding, Agent Rossi." She sat on the couch close to him, leaning forward. "It's just that it's all been so stressful. Since my husband's death I've had to raise Billy and do everything for this place. It's been impossible to find anyone to manage things here that I don't constantly have to baby-sit. I was counting on Billy to step in one day, when he was ready. And now ..." She laid her hand casually on Rossi's knee as she spoke.

Emily wandered behind them, lingering in the doorway until they were settled on the couch and Mrs. Stockhausen's attention was completely on Rossi. She carefully faded back into the other room to see if anything caught her eye. No matter what Hotch had said, she could see that a woman's touch wasn't going to be needed here.

One wall of the office held a series of wooden filing drawers with a set of bookshelves above them. A trophy display of shiny cups and heavy glass etched with sailboats took up one shelf, and framed photos were interspersed among the objets d'art and books on the other shelves. Emily walked towards them with a sideways glance. Billy's name was displayed prominently on most of them, along with the names of several different boats. First and second place awards in various sailboat regattas, the Speedboat Grand Prix, the Yacht Races in Key West. He was also in most of the photographs, a blond boy with a carefree smile that grew more haughty as he got older, his eyes taking on an arrogant twinkle. He shared a few of the pictures with another young man, tanned a few shades darker than his golden glow, with average brown hair and a much more hesitant expression. In one they stared out at the camera, one of the trophies on the shelf held up between them.

_Hmmmm ... who are you? _she wondered, keeping one ear tuned to the low voices of Rossi and Mrs. Stockhausen as they spoke in the other room.

"Now ... Regina" Rossi was saying gently. Emily could picture his expression. Trustworthy and Sincere. "We know you told the police that you believed Billy was on vacation in Europe, and we've been trying to put together a timeline of his whereabouts, that might lead us to his killer. We've yet to pinpoint the exact moment or method of his return, and we were hoping you could help us. Exactly when was the last time you spoke to your son, and was there anything unusual about his frame of mind?"

Regina paused a fraction of a second too long and Emily could tell the question made her uncomfortable. "We've ... always been close, my son and I." she said, avoiding the question. "Always. We communicated all the time, while he was away. I got text messages from him every few days. Emails" Another long pause. "Spoke? I ... uhhhhh... time differences... and he was having so much fun... " she trailed off.

Rossi said the words she couldn't seem to bring herself to. "The last time you heard his voice was before he left on his trip? And when was that?"

"Last year." she answered abruptly, sounding annoyed. "Yes ... I suppose it was, but he was fine, everything was fine ... there was nothing unusual about his state of mind."

Emily quietly paged through the appointment book on the desk while she listened. Dates scheduled for massages, spa treatments. She shook her head with a small sarcastic smile. _Don't be judgemental, _she told herself. _She's probably a very lovely woman. _She snorted under her breath. _Yeah, right. _She moved back to the doorway of the other room quietly, trying not to draw attention to herself.

As she did so the outer door opened and a young man paused on the threshold, looking between Rossi and Mrs. Stockhausen, seemingly unsure if he should enter or not. Rossi looked up questioningly at the new arrival, but Emily recognized him as the young man in the photographs with Billy. He wore a dark blue plain T-shirt, above faded and worn but clean jeans. A small silver cross glittered on a chain around his neck.

"Lucas, what IS it?" Regina snapped at him. "Isn't it obvious I'm in a meeting?" She glared at him, her anger at Rossi's questions finding a convenient target. The young man flinched and shifted from foot to foot nervously.

"I ... ummm ... you told me to tell you if there were any more complaints... ummmm... about the noise levels on... " he glanced at Rossi and then Emily, as if not sure what he should say in front of them. "... that boat. They had another party last night until all hours. I just spent 20 minutes calming down Mr. and Mrs. Smyth-White. They ... saw things." His face darkened, the unnamed "things" clearly too disturbing for him to explain.

Regina clicked her tongue and made an exasperated noise. "Later, Lucas. I will deal with this later. Get back to work. I'm sure you have plenty to keep you busy." she turned away dismissively, ignoring him.

Lucas looked at her blankly for a moment, then Emily thought she saw a spark of anger in his eye, but it was gone so quickly she couldn't be sure. "Sure. Yes, ma'am." He smiled at all of them, looking at Emily and Rossi curiously for a moment and then backing out of the room deferentially.

"Sometimes I hate being so hard on him but ... ." Mrs. Stockhausen said after he closed the door, the unfinished sentence ending with a sigh. "He's a good boy, really, been invaluable to me this past year. His family used to own a little fishing business up the coast, before they went under and Lucas came to work for us. He practically grew up here. Knows all about boats, used to take care of Billy's little toys for him, help him out with his racing hobby. Billy just adores the water." Rossi nodded understandingly and Emily did too, as if she hadn't seen the photos in the other room. Regina paused, her eyes misting again. "I mean... he did." Rossi patted her arm comfortingly, and she moved a little closer to him, seeming to regain her composure.

"So, Billy and Lucas were friends?" Rossi questioned.

"Oh, of course not. I wouldn't call them friends." She sounded slightly affronted by the idea. "Lucas is an employee. That's what I meant about being hard on him. Considering the way things are. I don't want him to start feeling ... entitled. Now that Billy's gone."

Rossi nodded again, shooting a small look up at Emily that she answered with her own. _No, we wouldn't want that._

"Can you think of anyone who might have had a grudge against your son?" he continued. "Someone who might have wished him harm?"

"I can't imagine" Regina answered in a bewildered tone. "Billy was a charming young man. Absolutely charming, Everyone loved him. This has to be the work of some kind of maniac. Isn't that what you people do? Find the crazed monsters that are capable of this sort of thing? With all the taxes I pay to fund your salary why can't you find the creature that killed my son?" she finished angrily.

Rossi tried to calm her down, but after a while it became apparent that the interview was going nowhere. They gave a polite farewell and told Mrs. Stockhausen they would be in touch if they had any more information. It was dark outside when they left, the water sparkling with the reflection of the city lights on the horizon.

A soft voice came out of the shadows as they reached the car. "Excuse me ... you'all the investigators? You're tryin' to find out what happened to Billy?"

"Lucas?" Emily guessed, recognizing the shy voice. "Yes, we're with the FBI investigating Billy Stockhausen's murder." She held out her ID "Emily Prentiss, and this is David Rossi. Maybe you could help us. I understand you knew Billy well? "

"Since we was kids." Lucas said sadly, his face still covered in shadow. "You got any idea who did it?"

"The investigation is still ongoing." Emily gave the stock answer. "But any information you could give us would be helpful. Did Billy mention anything to you before he left town? Anything he was unhappy about?"

Lucas paused before he answered, and his voice took on a tone of bitterness. "It's not my place to say nothin. Mrs. Stockhausen wouldn't like it, but I'll tell you what. You remember that yacht I was tellin' her about in the office? She's named "The Desire". If I was you I'd be lookin' there. They shoulda been kicked off the marina a long time ago, but I guess their money's as good as anyone's. Billy sure wanted 'em gone though. He told 'em off good before he left, I could hear the voices all the way from the dock."

Emily repeated the information to make sure she had understood correctly. "You heard Billy having a fight with someone while he was on board?"

"Yes ma'am" Lucas confirmed.

"And this was right before he left town?"

"Yes ma'am" he repeated. "Couldn'ta been a more'n a week later Mrs. Stockhausen told me he was seein' the sights over there"

Emily pressed him for more information but he seemed spooked by the boldness of his own words, backing away from her. "I ... oughta get back to work. That's all I know." He moved quickly away from them and disappeared into the darkness at the edge of the parking lot.

Rossi had moved up to catch the hushed conversation. "That was interesting." he remarked dryly.

Emily nodded. "You think there's more to the story?"

"There always is, isn't there?" Rossi replied. "Let's see what Penelope can dig up on this belligerent boater."

Emily chuckled. "Belligerent boater? You have such a way with words, Rossi."

"How do you think I got on the best-seller list?" he said with a wry smile.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hotch motioned to Spencer from the open doorway of the elevator. "Hurry, Spencer, this could be crucial to the case. I need you here." _

_"You know how I feel about elevators after that incident with Morgan." Spencer replied. "I think I'll take the stairs?" _

_And yet his feet kept moving towards the small enclosed space. _

_"Now" Hotch said urgently. Spencer walked inside and turned towards the doorway as Hotch pushed the button for the basement level. The doors closed with a small whoosh of air and his stomach jumped as they lurched downward. _

_Without warning, Hotch pounced towards him, pinning him against the wall. He grabbed a handful of Spencer's hair in his fist and yanked his head to the side. Spencer made a small startled gasp and froze in place, as Hotch began a fierce assault on his neck, covering it with rough kisses and bites. Spencer moaned, his arms somehow finding their way around Hotch's back, his leg lifting to hook around the older man's thigh as he pushed against him. Another yank and their lips met with animal ferocity, a low growl building in Hotch's throat. Spencer closed his eyes, open-mouthed and whimpering under the attack, until the other man pulled back. He shook his head, not wanting it to stop, hard and eager.  
_

_"Please.." he whispered as he opened his eyes. And saw Phoenix's amused face staring back at him. _

_The elevator dinged to a stop and the doors opened. Flames licked against the rocks of a dark cavern, stretching off into the distance. Dim shapes writhed in the shadows. _

_Spencer gave Phoenix a look of disdain. "I don't believe in hell, actually." _

_"You don't have to be in hell to burn" Phoenix answered him, wearing Hotch's suit and tie and a mocking smile._

_He took Spencer's hand and led him out of the elevator and onto the rough ground, moving forward into the darkness, surrounded by groans and other sounds of both pain and pleasure. Spencer tried not to look at the shapes around him, tried not to see what they were doing as he walked through them. Ahead of them was a low ring of flame encircling a tumbled pile of rock. A pale shape lay splayed on the stones, arms and legs loose and lifeless. As they came closer, stepping over the crackling tongues of fire, Spencer could see that it was Austin. His eyes stared into nothing, and his head was thrown back at an angle off a jagged edge of rock. His belly was split open, but not into a clean empty void like Billy Stockhausen's had been. Dark red and purple coils of intestine draped over the rock, and a spray of blood left a black stain around his body and the ground below. _

_As Spencer looked at him sadly, Austin's blank eyes filled with life. He raised his head and gave Spencer a sweet smile. _

_"I knew you would join us eventually." Austin said, his arms reaching out, the lustful spark he had worn on stage coming into his eyes. Spencer moved forward willingly, his hand brushing against the cold smooth surface of entrails. Not caring. Knowing that Austin was right and this was where he belonged. Tasting the soft honey of those lips, Phoenix's strong hands reaching around him and loosening his belt as he ... _

"Kid!"

Spencer's eyes flew open. Morgan was leaning over him with a concerned look on his face. His hand still gripped Spencer's shoulder. "You were moaning in your sleep." he said. "Another nightmare?"

"I ... don't remember." Spencer lied. He shifted under the covers, turning on his side quickly before Morgan could notice what else was going on. "Maybe. I guess so."

"Anything you feel like talking about?"

"Not really."

Derek frowned. "I wasn't just talking about the nightmare, Reid." Spencer stared at the little hotel alarm clock on the nightstand between the two beds as he continued. "When you guys got back tonight, Hotch was wound tight as a drum and damn near bit my head off when I asked him how it went. And you weren't saying Anything." He gave an affectionate chuckle. "Which just ain't normal, kid. Exactly what happened at that club tonight?"

"Oh." Spencer said in a flat expressionless voice.

"You used to talk to me, Reid. I know it's been a while but ... you still can. I'm right here."

"I don't really know how to talk about it" Spencer mumbled under his breath. "It was... " he paused, searching for the words. "Strange." he finished with a sigh.

"Strange how?" Now that Morgan had him talking he wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily.

"There were ... these guys. At the club. They .. " he swallowed, then the words started pouring out of him before he could stop himself."They were flirting with me. Ummmm ... I think. Maybe. We sort of got trapped into watching this stage show and one of them.." he trailed off, feeling his face coloring yet again, knowing that Morgan would be able to tell, even with the lights out. "Well ... he took his clothes off. Most of them, anyway." He waited for Derek's inevitable laughter.

Derek's voice came quietly into the darkness. "How did that make you feel?"

Spencer's brow furrowed angrily as he answered. "We're trying to solve a murder. Eight murders precisely, that we can identify." he corrected himself, taking comfort in the simple reality of the numeric value. "I don't really have time for ... feelings."

"We're always trying to solve a murder. Feelings aren't something you can just box up somewhere in that big brain of yours to take out when you have time for them. Feelings are... " Derek put his hand lightly on his chest. "Here"

Spencer frowned and turned his face to the side again, saying nothing, his eyes troubled. "Unless.. " Derek continued after a few moments of the shared silence. "The feelings you're talking about are coming from somewhere a little lower? "

"Criminy, Morgan !" Spencer exclaimed indignantly, then his voice grew softer and slower. "Ummm ... if I Was having ...ummm ... those sorts of feelings... " his eyes flashed to Morgan and then away again. "how would you feel about it ... ummm .. I mean ... about me ... if I were ... that way."

"Honestly, kid? It worries me for you." Morgan held his hand up, shaking his head to stop Spencer before he could speak. "Not for the reasons you think. You already have such a hard time feeling comfortable around people, letting them get to know you. Being gay would be one more thing that made you different. Isolated you.

"I've always been different" Reid said in a low, resigned tone. "I'm not really sure I know any other way to be. No matter what I do, I'm never going to function like a "normal" person. I had that figured out when I was six." He sighed and continued, his voice picking up its pace."Besides, statistically the percentage of gay, lesbian, transgendered, or bisexual Americans is estimated to be between eight and ten percent. Do you know how many people score higher than 180 on an IQ test?"

"I'm guessing probably a lot less?"

"Less than two percent. So in that sense I'd be moving into a larger demographic" He gave a small cough. "Theoretically"

"Right. But again, we aren't talking about statistics. We're talking about you."

Spencer sat up in the bed against the headboard, raising his knees and circling his arms around them.

"I don't know" he said sadly. "Maybe I'm just tired of being lonely. I never used to think about myself that way. Being alone. It's just how I was. It never felt like a ... lack of anyone before."

"And now?"

"Sometimes it does" He lowered his head, hair hanging down in his face. "Sometimes I wonder what it is about me that makes it so hard to ... connect with another person. I always assumed it would come about naturally some day. That's what my mom told me. But it hasn't. I've never felt ... " he chewed his lip, searching for the right word. "ummm ... driven. To get closer to anyone. That is, anyone I could ... ummmm... have."

"How do you know you couldn't have them?" Morgan asked.

Spencer made a small dismissive noise. "Oh, you know. That erstwhile "date" I had with J.J. when Gideon gave me the baseball tickets? I don't know what I was thinking. Besides, getting involved with someone you work with is never a good idea, right?" He swallowed quietly, trying to put the image of dream Hotch pushing him against the wall of the elevator out of his mind. "Anyway, no one else." he finished quickly.

"What about Lila Archer?"

"She was a good kisser." Spencer said softly."We talked a few times. Eventually it was fairly obvious to both of us that "there is no there there." He paused and then added reflexively. "Gertrude Stein."

"When did you date her?" Morgan asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

Spencer laughed, shaking his head. "Ok. I guess I deserved that for being a know-it-all."

"Damn straight." Morgan chuckled.

"Well if it makes you feel any better I don't have a clue what to do about this." Spencer sighed. "I don't want it to get in the way of the case, but it's sort of .. ummm ... getting harder to ignore?"

"You know Kid, in the long run if you found someone that made you happy I wouldn't give a damn if they were a boy or a girl. But I can't make that call for you. What I do know is that I want it to be someone you can trust. My gut tells me none of the guys that were flirting with you in that bar are that person. You're not stupid. You know how to keep your body safe, if you decide to experiment, but I'm not sure about your heart. I don't want someone to get wit'you just for the hot nasty sex and then treat you like dirt afterwards. I'd have to kill them."

Spencer tried not to squirm when Morgan said "hot nasty sex". He nodded slowly. "I know you're right. I hate that I'm reacting this way. It's ridiculous."

"Uh-uh. All it proves is that you're a human being. Stop beating yourself up over it."

"Please don't tell anyone we talked about this." The last thing he wanted was this getting back to Hotch.

"What you tell people and when is your business, Reid. No one else's."

"There's nothing to tell. There's not going to Be anything to tell. At least not until this case is over. Maybe then I'll think about ...exploring this. I'm not about to let some guy I don't know pick me up and take me somewhere. I've seen how well That ends."

_Dr. Spencer Reid, are you trying to get me alone? _Austin's teasing voice played in his head, mocking him.

"I'm not." He repeated softly, not sure if he was trying to convice Morgan or himself.

"Did I say I didn't believe you, Kid?" Morgan said. He reached out and squeezed Spencer's shoulder again. "Hey. Thanks for trusting me with this. I know it wasn't easy."

Spencer sighed. "Yeah ... it wasn't. But I think you were right. I needed to talk about it with someone. I feel a little better now."

"Think you could get back to sleep? Things could get crazy tomorrow."

"I can try. "

"Ok." Morgan gave Spencer's shoulder another small squeeze."I'll buy you a coffee tomorrow. You'll need it." He got up and climbed back into the other double bed."Night, Kid."

"I'll need at least two coffees. And twentyseven sugars." Spencer said with a little laugh. "Night, Derek."

He listened to the sounds of Morgan's breathing getting slower and louder, hoping the repetitive sound would lull him off to sleep. After an hour of tossing and turning and smacking his pillow around to try to get it in a comfortable position, he came to the conclusion that it was pointless. He got up and walked quietly to the bathroom, closing the door carefully to make sure the sound wouldn't wake Morgan before turning on the light. He stripped off his pyjama's robotically, not looking in the mirror, and then turned on the shower. He climbed inside and let the lukewarm water rush over him, his hair dripping into his face before he pushed it back with both hands, blowing the water out of his mouth and shaking his head.

He washed his hair and soaped his body, his thoughts rambling and unfocused. As the soap rinsed off he rubbed his hands over his chest and stomach to push away the suds instead of using the washrag provided by the hotel. He closed his eyes and just stood there for a moment, his fingers splayed on his stomach, feeling the beat of the water on his back. Images from the night resurfaced. Austin's smiling face and lithe body. The expression on Hotch's face as he watched the boy dance. Phoenix's seductive hand on his neck.

He closed his eyes and gave a small whimpering moan. His hand moved lower, and did something he had never allowed himself to do. The flesh stiffened under his touch and a shudder moved up his spine, his toes curling into the hard porcelain of the tub.

"Ohhhh" he murmurred. Carefully turning towards the wall, he braced one hand on the tiles and spread his legs instinctively so as not to lose his balance. His hand curled around himself and he gave several tentative strokes, the pleasure almost making him fall to his knees. He compressed his lips to keep himself from crying out, his eyes flying open. He began to move his hand faster and with more assurance, legs trembling but still holding, hunched over, one palm flat to the wall and the other moving up and down.

As lost as he was in the sensations, the scientist in him couldn't help but try a little experiment. He forced himself to imagine the rounded curves of unidentified women. Naked women. A soft blush came to his cheeks as these unknown females took on form and became more familiar, turning into the only women he truly knew well enough to imagine in reality. He saw Prentiss' athletic body, J.J's more womanly shape, even Garcia's ample curves. Lila in her bikini in the pool. Nothing happened except that he was suddenly no longer aroused, according to what was happening in his hand. He swiped more frantically and tried to go back to the random feminine shapes. Maybe his co-workers were too close and the sense of violation and guilt overrode any feelings of excitement. He already knew that things didn't work out with Lila. Still, nothing was happening and he gave a small groan of frustration.

The minute he did, his perfect memory played back the sound made by Hotch watching Austin dance as if in echo and he was back in the nightclub, seeing it with the precision and detail of a holographic image. He surged into fullness again. His ass quivered and he threw his head back, the water cascading over his chest as he began to stroke with renewed enthusiasm. He saw Austin's body twirling and grinding around the pole, only a small scrap of fabric covering the hard bulge beneath. Felt Phoenix's hot breath in his ear. There was no more possibility of denying the obvious. This was what his body wanted. What He wanted. He let his mind play with the memories, fantasy taking over from reality as he worked his body.

Fantasy Hotch grabbed him in front of the stage, pulling him in, his hard length pressing into him as their bodies ground together. Hotch kissed him thoroughly, then pulled back with a small growl.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." Hotch moaned against his lips, looking deeply into his eyes.

"Then don't stop." he breathed longingly. "Never stop. Take me ... right here, right now." His fantasy giving him the liberty to say the cliched words in his head that he knew he could never possibly say in real life. Or even in fantasy, if he thought about it too much.

_Damn it. Stop Thinking. _He scolded his brain angrily. _Can't you just let me feel something for Once? _He let the fantasy wash over him again like the drops of water, losing himself in it and letting his body react. He shuddered again and felt a moan building in his throat, biting his lips against it, afraid that Morgan would hear.

Fantasy Hotch spun his body around and pushed him hard against the stage, forcing his body to bend over it. Hotch's hand reached around and started to undo his belt like Phoenix had in the dream. He felt the cool air on his body as the older man yanked the pants and underwear down in one swift motion. The audience hooted and howled its approval for the new show.

Austin bent down with an erotic smile, pulling his arms tightly against the stage, straddling them as he sat down, legs dangling off the edge. Pinning them. He could feel the softness of Austin's flesh against his forearms. His head rested on Austin's pale thigh, forcing him to look directly at the tiny revealing thong as what was trapped inside it began to shift and grow.

Phoenix stepped up beside Hotch, a hand on Hotch's back pushing him forward. "Do it" He urged. "Or I will." He laughed darkly. "It's time to deflower this innocent."

In his fantasy, he whimpered and moved his hips, legs spreading slightly. Desire and dread filling him equally. Wanting it. Afraid of it. Wanting it More.

In the shower Spencer gasped and his breath grew faster into short gulping bursts as his hand moved. He closed his eyes and his mouth hung open, lips trembling. Feeling shivery heat building between his legs.

Hotch pushed Phoenix away roughly. "He's mine." Hotch said in the take charge"do not get in my way"voice that he knew so well. "He's always been mine."

"Mmmm ... so strong." Phoenix said with a teasing smile, moved back slightly by Hotch's shove. "Prove it." The tattoed man crouched down, nibbling and licking at his ear, making his body arch with sensation."This ass is too fine to waste." he half-whispered seductively.

Spencer's body arched in time with the fantasy, his hips moving foward almost lifting his heels off the bottom of the tub. He stroked furiously, pressing his eyes tightly shut, seeing flashes of light playing across the inside of his eyelids. He didn't know how he knew these things or where these thoughts and desires were coming from but they were doing the trick, without question, so he let them happen. His stomach flipped and he bit his lip again, a hoarse cry strangling in his throat.

Fantasy Hotch grabbed his hips, fingers digging tightly into his flesh. Kicked his legs further apart. Phoenix gave a hot breathy laugh into his ear and Austin made a hungry moan of anticipation. Hotch moved forward ...

There was a small spattering noise and the pattern of sticky fluid hitting the wall was quickly washed away, leaving no trace of his unchecked passion. Spencer bent over, chest rising and falling as he fought for breath, his palm bracing him against the tiles as best he could. The guilty hand curled into a fist, beating out a rhythm on his thigh.

"Oh shit. Oh my god." he gasped, his agnoticism forgotten in the shocked aftermath of what he had just done. "What was that? What did I ...? How could I ...? " His eyes filled with silent tears that mingled with the water from the shower and dripped down his face. He let himself be washed clean again and slowly pulled himself upright, licking the water off his lips, blinking his eyes. He stood there for a few minutes, breath shaky, unable to process even his thoughts, much less his emotions. Finally he turned off the shower and stepped out, drying himself briskly with a towel. He met his own eyes in the mirror and forced himself to look, dropping the towel on the counter, looking up and down at his naked now quiescent body as if at an enemy.

"This never happened." he said to his reflection as if it were the one responsible. "Do you hear me? Never. Happened." He glared at himself and then sighed sadly, his voice becoming low and defeated. "Never going to happen." He pushed his hair back and looked away. He waited until his breathing slowed to its normal state and then put one of the hotel bathrobes on. He didn't want to put dirty pyjamas back on and no way was he going back out there naked. He opened the bathroom door with a lump in his throat, terrified that he had made some sort of noise, done something to wake Morgan and that Morgan would know. Worse than that, that Morgan would want to Talk about it.

The sounds of loud snoring reassured him that he was safe, so he wrapped the bathrobe closer around himself and padded back to his bed, crawling under the covers and turning away from the other man, curling up into a ball on his side. He closed his eyes, because it was better than staring into the nothingness, even though he knew he wouldn't be falling asleep again tonight. And he waited for morning.


	7. Chapter 7

In the morning, Spencer reminded Morgan of his promise to buy him a decent cup of coffee, emphasis on the "decent", manoeuvring himself into riding in with Morgan and Garcia, leaving the other team members the larger SUV. He felt a little guilty about being so underhandedly Machiavellian, but it was better than facing Hotch until they were occupied with business. He didn't want to see the look in Hotch's eyes, whatever it would be. Not after the night before. What had actually happened was bad enough, but what he had fantasized and done afterwards? No. Not ready for that at all.

They spent a few minutes driving around looking for an independent coffee shop because Garcia was adamant that Starbucks was evil and most likely Satan was on the board of directors. Finally they found one and took their places at the end of the small line inside.

Garcia turned to Spencer with her irrepressible smile. "Sooooo - before we get to all the serious stuff. Was the club everything Michael said it would be? All full of naughty boys and depravity? I was dying to ask last night but I was in twenty different databases and you guys slipped out so fast..."

Morgan gave Spencer a reassuring look.

"Ummm - I guess." Spencer replied with an attempt at a casual shrug, turning to look up at the posted menu as if he hadn't already memorized it. "Look, they have Cuban coffee."

Garcia laughed, and he thought her attention was momentarily averted. "That's just what you need. Stronger caffeine." Then she continued teasingly where she had left off with barely a breath. "Did you get any phone numbers? Did Hotch ever take off his tie?"

Spencer started to try and stammer out an answer, but thankfully Morgan came to his rescue by turning the questioning back on Garcia. "Speaking of Michael, there _has_ to be a story there, Baby Girl. How did you two meet?" Out of Spencer's eyesight, he gave her a pointed look and a small shake of his head.

Garcia's eyes showed her understanding of Morgan's signal and she shifted gears quickly. "In the middle of the San Francisco Pride Parade." she giggled. "Best party in the city. Everyone has a blast. Costumes and craziness, whether you're _in_ the parade or watching it. I was there dressed as Ursula and he was Ariel, we saw each other in the crowd, and by the time we finished the medley from "The Little Mermaid" we were BFF's"

Morgan chortled and even Spencer had to smile at the image.

As they walked to the car with their coffees, he thought of his suspicions the night before. "I know you're friends, Garcia, but how well do you really know him?" he asked. "You said you hadn't seen him in a long time. Do you think we can trust him?"

Garcia nodded. "Michael is good people. He was a little wild back then but we all were. What are you thinking, Dr. Handsome?"

He explained the tense body language he had witnessed between Michael and Phoenix. "I think there's a credible possibility that Michael knows more about him than he's letting on. He's already admitted to crossing paths with Billy Stockhausen. Why wouldn't he tell us about Phoenix when he knew we were going to the club?" _ And probably knew the kind of welcome that Phoenix would give us, _he silently added.

"Hmmmm... good question. Yes, he's my friend, but those little observations of yours are usually dead on. You should ask him." Garcia replied with a small frown. "Of course people can change, but I honestly believe he's playing straight with us. Pardon the pun."

When they got to the police station, Michael hadn't arrived yet, so Spencer filed his questions away for later. He sat down at the table in the briefing room, trying to look inconspicuous. As he had hoped, Hotch was all about the case, whatever personal demons he had fought during the night pushed aside. He gave Spencer a cursory hello with barely a glance. _Or maybe he doesn't want to get too close either,_ Spencer thought with an internal sigh. _Remember what you promised Morgan. You can't think about this until the case is over. _He wondered if he would have the guts even then to ask Hotch what he had been feeling last night in the bar. Then he wondered if he really wanted to know the answer. Then he realized that Rossi had begun telling them about his interview with Mrs. Stockhausen. _Pay attention, genius; this is becoming a bad habit. _He berated himself with a small scowl, and brought his attention back to the room.

"...so it's possible that either Billy was killed much earlier than the body was dumped, and the unsub had a method to preserve the body." Rossi was saying. "Or he was being held captive and killed recently. Or he just didn't want to talk to his mother."

"I could go with that last theory." Prentiss chuckled.

"We won't have enough information to make that determination until we get the autopsy." Hotch said, then turned to Garcia. "Still, I want you to keep trying to get any security tapes in one of the hotels or shops on Billy's credit cards. We need to verify if he was the one making the transactions."

"Working on it, sir." Garcia answered, as she typed. "It's taking a little longer because of all the jurisdictions involved, but I should have something soon."

"We also talked to one of Mrs. Stockhausen's employees. Lucas... Preston?" Prentiss added, her tone now serious, consulting her notes. "Yes, that was it. He was very unsure about saying anything to us, but he did mention having overheard a fight between Billy and someone at one of the boats in the marina."

"That's right" Rossi confirmed. "_The Desire. _Garcia, see if you can find anything about the owner. If he wasn't the one who had the altercation with Billy he might know who did."

"Your wish is my command, O mighty one" Garcia said as she continued typing, her fingers a blur over the keyboard.

"Did the two of you find anything of interest at the club?" Rossi asked innocently, turning towards Spencer and Hotch. "It would be nice and neat to think all these cases are linked, but so far we don't have any proof."

Spencer swallowed and raised his eyes to Hotch. Only a small twitch by Hotch's cheekbone and the sudden stillness of his body gave away that he was feeling anything uncomfortable. He gave Spencer a small nod, ceding the floor to him.

"Oh... ummmm... We established the fact that two of the victims worked at the club, and several of the others were known to frequent it." Spencer said his voice cracking slightly as he started the sentence. "I... uhhh... spoke with a bartender" he continued, trying not to envision Austin's half-naked body. "I think he might have some information. The pictures clearly made him uncomfortable, and I think he wanted to make sure we weren't overheard if he said anything to me. I gave him a card." He frowned, and half-mumbled to himself. "…but Phoenix won't want him talking to me..." He trailed off, worrying his lip with his teeth.

"Phoenix?" Rossi asked.

"Phoenix Darque." Hotch spoke quietly, his voice sounding strained and tense. "He owns the club. He refused to cooperate or let any of his employees talk to us."

"Phoenix Darque?" Rossi repeated the name with an edge of sarcasm. "Oh, _that's_ not pretentious. Do we have any background on this guy? Any reason for him to stonewall us? "

"Checking, sir." Garcia said. She leaned over to another keyboard and typed in a few commands. "Hmmmm... interesting..."

Just then the door opened and Michael joined them. He seemed decidedly more subdued than he had the day before. His eyes looked tired and red-rimmed, and his face was pale. He sat down in an empty chair and looked around the table, his shoulders beginning to shake.

"I... I'm so sorry... I thought ... I could help." he said in a quavering voice.

Garcia rushed over to him, leaning over and putting her arm across his shoulders. "Michael, hon, what happened?"

Michael took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "You'll all find out soon enough. I thought I should have the guts to come here and tell you in person. I... won't be able to work with you anymore. I'm resigning."

"Why?" Spencer asked, his eyes filled with concern. He had his suspicions about Michael, but he hated to see anyone so obviously upset.

"I should have known not to take you to the club last night. I knew it would piss him off, but… I didn't think there was anything he could do about it." He lowered his head in his hand. "I should have known."

"Tell us what happened, Michael." Hotch urged. "Did someone threaten you?"

Michael spoke in a slow hollow voice as if he were talking to himself, looking out into space. "I know it was Phoenix. I'll never be able to prove it but there's no one else it could be. No one else knew... just..." he looked up with a haunted expression. "When I got up this morning someone had sent a video to my phone. And cc'd The Tampa Tribune, the staff at Stonewall South, Det. Marrero and... my partner." He blinked rapidly, seeming to hold back tears. "It's nothing illegal but it's... compromising. Embarrassing."

Garcia's eyes filled with anger. "That bastard. Michael you can't cave to him."

Michael shook his head sadly. "I know why you're saying that, but I can't do anything to jeopardize the investigation. This video... it's of me and... one of Phoenix's dancers... doing... really naughty things to each other..." He took a deep breath and continued. "One of the murdered boys. It was Crispin Weir."

"Berlin." Spencer said, remembering the picture that Austin had pointed to.

"Oh Michael." Garcia said sadly. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I know. I know... I should have said something... but I had no idea he'd pull anything like this. I didn't even know it was being filmed. It was... personal. What could I say that wouldn't make everyone think I was just another sex crazed homo pervert like they think we all are anyway?"

"I thought you seemed tense with Phoenix last night." Spencer observed. "You were afraid he was going to say something."

"Oh I know Phoenix can't stand me since I sobered up. The feeling's mutual. I think he's a predator that uses people's weaknesses to line his own pockets. He's cruel and vindictive and full of himself. I have no doubt he's capable of murder, if it suited his purpose. I didn't think he'd try to kill me right in front of an FBI agent, so I wasn't worried. But he found a way to make me pay, didn't he?"

"You pointed us right at that club. Is that why?" Hotch asked.

Michael hesitated for a moment, but then whatever was holding the story inside him broke and he started talking. "I've had my hunches about Phoenix from the beginning. I met him when I first came here. I didn't really know anyone and Temptation had just opened. I started showing up every night. You have to understand about Phoenix." he gave a small shudder. "He has a way of persuading people to... do things. Whatever you wanted... any secret little fantasy... Phoenix could set it up for you. The things that went on in those private rooms..."

"Did he take money for these little... adventures?" Rossi questioned.

Michael nodded. "Not that you'd be able to trace it to him. But money always changed hands somehow. God I was such an idiot!"

Garcia patted him on the shoulder. "It's ok... take it easy"

"You don't understand. Every right-wing self-righteous bigot in the state is going to use this to destroy Stonewall South's reputation. It's not just me that's going to be ruined by this. All the work we've done... just because I couldn't keep it in my pants. I'm not... that guy anymore. But that won't matter."

"Whatever happened, we could still use your help." Garcia assured him. "The important thing is that we find out who killed the boys. You were very brave to stand up to him like that."

Michael squeezed her hand on his shoulder. "Now I remember why I loved you, Diva. You're right." he sat up a little straighter and his voice got stronger. "When I noticed that most of the victims either worked at the club or were someone I'd seen there often I got suspicious. So when you asked me if there was anywhere special you could ask questions I had to take you there. I wanted to see if someone unbiased would come to the same conclusions"

A thought occurred to Spencer. "You said you'd seen Billy... ummmm... party. Was that at the club?"

"There and on the boat. Billy loved to drop the cash. The dancers were always hanging all over him at Phoenix's little parties."

Spencer frowned at the image of Austin draped over Billy. "But then why would Phoenix want him dead? Wouldn't that dry up a source of income for him?"

Michael shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he wanted more than Billy was willing to give. And Billy liked calling the shots. You might have noticed that Phoenix is sort of a control freak. They had it out a few times, when Billy was drunk and being obnoxious. I thought maybe Billy came back from Europe and started trying to push Phoenix around again and Phoenix finally got fed up. Or he knew something about what Phoenix was up to and threatened to turn him in."

"Control freak... yeah I noticed that..." Spencer said with a small blush, and then his eyes narrowed. "Wait ... did you say boat?" He looked over at Garcia.

Garcia jumped up and rushed over to the keyboard. "Oh... OH!" She punched some keys and looked at the screen. "I'm so ten steps ahead of you, Dr... and Voila!" She raised her head with a huge grin. "Anyone want to lay a bet down on who the owner of _The Desire _is? Well it's too late because you already lost. It's the slimy Mr. Darque."

"Mmmhmm" Michael nodded. "That's it. Do you think it might have some kind of evidence on it?" He asked curiously.

"We can't get specific about that, but let's say that along with your story something came to light that makes me very interested in having a long talk with Mr. Darque." Hotch said. "Garcia, before Michael came in you said you had found something interesting."

Garcia beamed. "You're going to love this. Phoenix Darque - and that does seem to be his real name because there are no a.k.a's listed on this police record, Rossi - has an outstanding warrant for his arrest issued by Orleans Parish for pandering. Also, he seems to have been called in for questioning on a sexual assault charge. The records are spotty on that one, though. A lot of paperwork was lost during Hurricane Katrina. I'm sure I can dig a little deeper if you give me more time."

J.J took out her cellphone. "I'll ask Will to call some of his old New Orleans contacts. They might remember something"

"Thanks, J.J." Hotch nodded, turning to Morgan and Prentiss. "I'd like the two of you to get with Det. Marrero and execute that warrant. Let's show Mr. Darque a little of _our_ hospitality."

"Looking forward to it." Morgan said. "Can't wait to meet the guy, after all the nice things I've heard about him." He gave Spencer a small smile, remembering the talk they had had the night before. "Come on, Prentiss."

Spencer gave him an uncertain smile in return as Morgan left with Prentiss. Then he looked up at Hotch, grim faced and pacing the room as they waited. _Phoenix may be a control freak, but he has no idea what he's about to go up against. _He thought. _My money's on Hotch. _

He just hoped he was right.


End file.
